Portrait of a Lost Girl in a Gilded Cage

She waits for the seduction,
for his hand between her legs.
All lemon verbena
and wires buttressing her limbs.

She swallows carnations. Beach glass.
Is plagued by the fluttering
of finches beneath her dress.
The aviary walls licked with dust
and pennies lodged like tongues
in the mattress.

When he arrives it's a symphony,
breathless and contrived.
The dark choreography
of his fingers rough in her,
her thighs that ache to spread
like wings.

At dawn he'll leave her sprawled
on the massive four-poster,
all sequins and feathers,
one glassy eye.

The mouths too hazy
to swallow her by.
The scar on her belly
where the cotton slips out.